A Final Visit
by SHansen
Summary: Sherlock's headstone is being taken down after the man's return, and John pays a final visit to the empty grave. Sherlock joins him unexpectedly. Mostly friendship, but also humor and a touch of the hurt/comfort genre.


**Author's notes: **Originally part of a longer reunion story I never finished, this part stands well on its' own, so I figured I would upload it. I wondered what would happen to Sherlock's grave after he had returned, and that's how this came about.

**A Final Visit**

John stared at the headstone with his best friend's name in bold, golden letters. For several minutes he stood there, lost in thought, before he heard the rustle of clothes close behind him, and looked up just as Sherlock walked up next to him.

Sherlock looked straight ahead at the headstone, so John turned his eyes back in that direction as well. His former thoughts now gave way to wonder. _What is he doing here?_ John knew why he himself was here. Sentiment. One final visit. But _Sherlock_?

"Nice headstone you chose". The detective's voice broke the silence, and he waved a finger at the stone. "I like the letters".

_Good grief._ John sighed and rolled his eyes at the clinical, inappropriate comment, so typical for Sherlock. However, the man wasn't finished.

"Really am glad that you didn't choose to write some sentimental _drivel_, or _'Rest in peace'_". The last words came out in a distinctly derivative tone. "As if one can feel peace or rest when they're dead".

The word 'dead' made John flinch. Then he caught up with what else Sherlock had just said. The corners of his lips quirked up.

Sherlock heard a chuckle and gave John a puzzled look.

"Can't imagine you 'resting in peace', Sherlock. Can barely picture you resting at all". John couldn't help another chuckle escaping him. Then another. Before he knew it, he was giggling heartily.

Sherlock chuckled too. "Maybe we shouldn't giggle. It's a cemetary", he said and caught John's gaze with his own. They both burst into laugther.

Feeling slightly embarrassed at their behavior, the older man cleared his throat. Both men retreated to another moment of silence.

John sighed, and Sherlock turned his face.

"I used to come here and talk to you".

That caught the detective by surprise. Then he felt a sting of fear. Had John gone mad? _Talking to a person you believed to be dead; what was that about?_

The look on his friend's face did not escape John's attention. He looked straight at Sherlock.

"Don't look like that; you used to talk to your skull".

Relaxing again, Sherlock smirked and let out a puff of air through his nose. He turned his face absentmindedly. John had a point. _Except -_

Sherlock furrowed his brow and looked back at his friend. "You did not talk to me because you needed to think".

That almost made John snort. _No, of course not; the idea of me doing some thinking is _prepostorous_! _Aloud, he said: "Sort of. I needed to remember".

The words piqued Sherlock's interest. "Remember what?"

John did not look at him, but replied solemnly: "You, of course. Everything. What we had done. Things you had said". He flicked his eyes to the ground. "Anything, really, to keep from forgetting the things, the little details, that I was... well, forgetting".

"You were losing your memory?"

John's head turned abruptly, and he saw that the man was being completely serious. He shook his head in exasperation.

"What?" asked Sherlock.

"I - no, I wasn't losing my memory, I just... I didn't remember everything anymore".

From Sherlock's puzzled look, John knew he wasn't getting through. Frustrated, he sighed. "I wanted to remember as much as possible. It was... all I had left of you".

The detective's eyes widened briefly, and he slowly turned his face away.

"Did it work?"

"Of course".

A short pause.

"What did you say?"

They looked at each other.

"Told you you were a bloody arse".

Both of them smirked and turned their gazes to the gravestone again.

"Ready?" Sherlock asked.

"More than ready."

They took hold of the headstone from each their side.

"On the count of three," John said and took a deep breath. "One, two, three!" Both men lifted, but their eyes widened in shock. The stone fell with a hard thud back to the ground.

Sherlock and John stared at it, then at each other.

_**The End**_


End file.
